Thursday, July 19, 2012


Apathy and broken bones.  I won't say it's the rarest of emotional combinations, but it gains a certain amount of oddness when the apathy comes from not caring how the breaks happened.

Or rather, why I've been sleep-jumping off of buildings every few nights for the last month, when my legs still don't work.

I suppose it's some form of self-served justice for one or more of my past misdeeds, so I'm not about to complain.  I accept that I've done bad things, most likely hurt a lot of people.  What are a few broken bones when they heal themselves in a couple hours, anyway?

Oh, and to answer that age-old question from TV, speeding up the healing does make the same amount of pain happen faster.

As I am now, both of my legs are further broken, my hip shattered, several bones broken or, I believe, dislocated, my right elbow shattered but healing, and most of my spine in various states of breaking.

And yet I only feel apathy toward it.

But I won't let it get in the way of watching what's happening in this city.  If anything, it's keeping me here.

Friday, June 22, 2012

An Impersonal Post

I realize that my observations on the Rakechildren is rather late, but what I lack in promptness, I make up for in information.

The first thing I noticed was that, aside from their monstrous appearance, they're more human than quite a number of full humans I've met.  Their community seems to be arranged similarly to a wolf pack, with an Alpha leading them.  Until recently, Tony was this particular pack's Alpha.

Watching them, I see that their powers can develop differently, taking on different traits of the Rake at different rates.  Some of them are still very human in appearance, with their only difference being the eyes, or the pale skin.  Others are more Rakelike in appearance with only their original eyes or mouth.  But so far, I've seen none that have transformed completely into a Rake.

Moreso, no matter how transformed they are, they all keep their mentality.  Were you unable to see them, you would think that they were unchanged humans (Some of which have difficulty speaking in normal tones.).

Listening on their conversations gave me a sense of the horror that transpired on the night of Tony's death.

"I'm still hurting from that entire mess."  This one sported minor burns, from what looked like a flamethrower, or some other flame-spewing apparatus.

"We all are. At least you don't have an impacted skull."  This one was one of the more transformed Children, also having an impressive set of claws, and an equally impressive gash on his head.  He seemed to have a powerful regenerative ability, though, as the injury seemed to heal itself over the next several days.

"I don't understand why we were even there to begin with."  This was a human-type Child, being completely passable as a human, except that he was unusually pale.  He went on the become the next Alpha after the pack recovered.

"Goddamn Tony and his goddamn vendetta. He got so many good Children killed."  This confirmed my suspicions that Tony died attacking the Proxies in his misguided hate, and seemed to speak volumes about him as a leader.

"I hate living in fear like this."  This caught me by surprise.  At this point in time, Tony had just died.  Unless something else happened, there was no reason for them to live in fear.  The Children live peacefully.  The only violence I've seen them perform was to protect one of their younger members from a misguided mugging attempt (A note here, all the children among them are orphans or other children in need of a home.), and they're extremely secretive.

"I still have nightmares about the fire."  This one... was painful to see.  When I first saw him, his entire body was burnt.  Almost no patch of skin was spared.  His fingers weren't even the bone claws fighting-oriented Children have.  I spent the next few nights using my magic for the first time in years to heal him.  His burns are much better now, but I doubt he'll ever heal completely.

"I keep waking up and thinking the house is on fire again. We lost so many good Children, brothers and boys."  This one was older than the others, about 50, and he carried himself like a soldier, and seemed to be the Children's combat trainer.

"Kids, though....the firebringer must be nothing but ice on the inside. He kills horrifically....indiscriminately. On his own will."  This one was female, another rarity in the Children, though that might just be rare in this particular pack.  From what I gathered in the days after, she was something like a den mother to the Children, but she still had some wounds from the fight.  Apparently Tony had dragged her along as well.  Poor girl wasn't suited for combat.

I left my roost some several days ago to record what I've seen on paper and to type this up.  That way I can refer to my notes if I can't access the internet.  Other than that, no more news.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Finally, a Personal Post

I'm currently burning time while I wait to observe a pack of Rakechildren I found in the outskirts of Pittsburgh.  The biggest advantage of being stuck in accelerated time is its biggest disadvantage.  I have more time to see them in more detail.  In the same way, I have much longer to wait for them.

I suppose now's as good a time as any to take some old advice I got from a friend.  Actually tell some about myself on this.

My name is Clark Minh.  I am either twenty or around sixty years of age, depending on whether you measure the time my body's been on Earth, or how much time I have experienced.  I am what is called an occultist, though my beliefs are open and diverse.  My greatest drive in life is to discover what is truth and fiction from the legends of the past.  I have already proven glyph magic to be real, as well as sentient creatures made of clay.  I have, however, given up on most of that magic now.

As a child, I was the designated pariah since day one.  The first day I went to school it was as though every other student saw me and made the conscious decision to make my life there miserable.  At the age of twelve, I was diagnosed with mild schizophrenia, which had a history in my family, but was thought to be brought out by my isolation.  This served to give my classmates a concrete reason to exclude me.  Not that I minded. I was used to it by then, and chose to read rather than let it bother me.

I made my first friend when I was twelve.  He had just moved into the school and knew no-one, and hadn't had enough time to hear all the rumors of my numerous (falsified) murder sprees.  In other words, he actually took the time to get to know me.  We were fast friends.  His name was Tony.

Tony, my parents, and I got along wonderfully.  He really was a sibling to me, and my parents saw him as their own son.  It was really fitting that after I lost my parents and my legs when I was fifteen, that Tony would be the one to help care for me.

Fast forward four years, and I made this blog with the intent of investigating gods of all cultures, and I made my second friend.  Since my blog's day one, there had been a person following it, but for some reason, I couldn't see the name.  It took a while before I found out who it was.  It was someone who took an interest in my work, and we hit off amazingly well.  A little too well, in retrospect, but all retrospect is perfect.  That was how I met Lucia.

My ill-fated relationship with Lucia has been detailed elsewhere, so I won't go into detail here.

At one point, my interest turned toward one of my projects from elementary school.  Specifically the Goetic demons.  A tradition of some Christian schools of thought that speaks of a number of demons that can be summoned to grant boons to mortals.  One in particular, Vassago, takes in promising students at no cost to them, and is even known to be very kind by human standards.  I chose to ask him to teach me.  And I was successful.

The resulting power allowed my research to take massive strides.  Among my creations were a pocket dimension large enough to house four yet could be carried in my pocket, and a living, feeling, sentient creature sculpted from clay, based off of the model of the Prometheans of Greek mythology.

While all this was going on, a strange creature who went by the name of Zwei pestered us.  He often made various threats against everyone he spoke to.  The last I've heard of him, though, was this last January, when he sent me an unnerving message hinting at the existence of a sword able to cut through any supernatural thing.  Considering the weight of threats around us at the time, such a sword was worth looking for, even if it was all a twisted trick by Zwei.  But the sword was real.  I still have it today.  I don't know what to do with it anymore, though.

Since then, I've been wandering the world, stuck in a semi-spell that has locked my perception of time so that for every week that passes, I experience two years (by my estimates).  If I were to say that much of that time was spent productively, I would be lying.  Much of my time was spent either depressed over the messy breakup between Lucia and I, or trying to take my mind off of it by watching the world pass by slowly.

But now...  I feel a need to become involved with the world I left behind.  I won't be making contact with anyone, I accept that I'm far too removed from it now.  I don't plan on seeking out Lucia or Ryan.  I won't dwell anymore.  Instead, I'll observe what happened to Tony, and these new creatures, the Rakeproxies.  And, if it still exists, if I can find it, I may seek out the Promethean.

Rakes, Requiems, and Raindrops

In looking through my older posts for some information, I discovered something today.  Tony has died, though I'm not sure exactly when.  He had scheduled a post to go up later today that went along the lines of 'If you see this, I'm dead, but I took one of you with me,' though in not as kind wording.

I do feel sad for the friend I had long ago, but I am glad that his pain is over. After losing Gabrielle, he wasn't the same.  He let his anger consume him.  He let himself become... something else.  And I'm not referring to his transformation into the Rake-creature.  In the message he intended to go up, he spent more time lauding his kill than focusing on his then-impending death.  He became so consumed by revenge that nothing else mattered.  For what it's worth, I pity him.

He also mentioned others like him.  Rakechildren, he called them.  They seem to be similar to Proxies, but I will have to investigate more to find out.

The place I've been staying recently has been getting a lot of bad weather recently.  Lots of rain.  Raindrops are beautiful things when they fall so slowly.  The puddle's surface dipping, then rising, throwing droplets in the air, and then shuddering back into itself...  First broken, then deformed, and then reformed.  I hope to be like a puddle of water in the rain.  I lost my legs and my parents to a car crash, and I lost my self and Lucia to my pride and power.  Now I've given up my legs for the sake of humility and I rarely use my powers.  But still I don't think I'm worthy of returning to the people I once knew.  It wouldn't be right.  I still feel like there's no place for me.  And by all rights there isn't.  Tony is dead, my old home is destroyed, Lucia probably couldn't forgive me, and the Promethean... I don't even know where he is.  I've looked, but I can't find him.  I can only guess that something has killed him.

I thought that I had managed to build my life up to something that was good.  Lucia gave me the drive and inspiration to make so many good things, but in the end, I really was very selfish.  I worked so much that I really did neglect everything in favor of making more discoveries.  And in the end... I wasn't right for her.  She mad em happy, and lord knows some of our debates on religion were some of the best fun I ever had, but we should have stayed friends.

My tutelage with Vassago made her worry over me when we had known each other for less than a month.  Thinking back, it was really bound to cause us to go into an unripe relationship.  Hindsight is crystalline, I suppose.  But everything seemed so... perfect.  I had my legs again, the power I'd been researching, and a woman who loved me.  It seemed right, like everything had finally fallen into place.

I'm going to try to search out Tony's allies, and possibly the Promethean, if I can find him.  Judging by Tony's comments, the Rakechildren are somewhere near Pittsburgh.

I'll have to change the name on this account back, too.  The picture as well...  I can't stand looking at that picture anymore.

Come to think of it, I wonder if Tony did kill anyone before dying...  Hopefully no one got hurt.

Thursday, April 26, 2012


Clark again.

I've been traveling again, doing some studying, or rather continuing what I have been for the last... nearly five months.  My research has involved various stories, of people showing alternate forms, personalities that function well beyond the abilities of a dissociative personalty should be able to.  My findings have come to one conclusion, though it's a simple theory, and one that I cannot confirm anymore.

I suppose I should be somewhat of a pain and explain the process behind it first.

Slender Man, as we know, brings out highly psychotic tendencies in people, even his followers.  His stalking normally causes paranoia, but often causes other mental instabilities, including the possibility of a personality split.  Now, applying that logic to someone who already has a disorder that exhibits alternate personalities, and him affecting each personality, the possibility that one or more personalities could have unforeseen developments is honestly one-hundred to one.

To summarize my point, I believe that Lucia's exposure, however small, to Slender Man, has agitated her preexisting schizophrenia and spawned the creature we know as Fear.  Slender Man stirred Lucia's mental condition and produced something altogether worse.

This makes me wonder, how have other people with similar conditions reacted to Slender Man's influence?

Monday, April 16, 2012


From the desk of Clark:

For as long as I can remember, there have been three words that mean more to me than anything else.  Three words that, to me, are the definition of comfort and happiness.  And no, none of those words are 'love'.

'I can see.'

By themselves, they say that I have perspective, that I am capable of knowing and that I do know.  With other words, they gain a new meaning.

'I can see your point.'

Now it means that I understand you, and that I see the same thing you do.  You aren't alone.  There are nearly infinite things that 'I can see,' which brings me to my most disturbing point.

I can see that Tony has seen fit to take over my blog account for his own reasons.  And the picture he has put here tells much of his fate.  I can only wonder what has happened in the broad world that has caused this...  I still can't bring myself to look, though.  It's not my place anymore.  I can see that.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Discount Holiday Candy

More than one post in a single year / week.  That's new.

It's amazing the things that can change what we are thinking of.  In this case, it was a box of discounted Valentine's chocolates.  It made me remember how happy I was back then, happy just to know that there was someone who cared and that I could care for.  Obviously, it wasn't meant to be, and never will be, it seems.

Come to think of it, I can really be perfectly candid here, now, as I doubt anyone still reads this.  Perhaps a few years from now I can look at this and laugh at what a fool I sound like.

I miss her.  Every moment of every instant that I'm flashing by the world I miss her.   I can't think of anything really more to say about it than that.  I just know that I was happy with the life we had, precarious as it was.  I've considered trying to meet them, but that's unlikely to work for a few reasons.  One, I don't know where any of my housemates are anymore, and two, I doubt Lu would be exactly enthusiastic to see me.

As for news that isn't me whining about an unfair youth, very little aside from my still being in possession of the bastard cane from bastard Zwei.

Amazing, how I live so fast compared to normal people, yet so little is worth putting to words.